The sightsThe scentsThe tastes and sounds so dense They make filtered ignorance our defence

But what of those objects who cannot see? On the brink — cannot think —Have no sense of "me"?

Imagine Try fathom — if just for a thrill — That inanimate did animate with sentient will

If walls could talkOr amenities squawk Your life would be full of diversionYou could no more ignore these things that implore you Through monologues read in first person ...

"My life is to serve you Sometimes unnerve you But you don't swerve from the curb to me like you use to do Stuck on this mooring It's always so boring and my life'd be fruitless — useless — If not for that one thing I'm adoring If it's correspondence you seek You know longer peek at me — once a week if I'm lucky — All of your phonics are now electronic Leaving me bringing ills; Delivering bills or junk mail that soon spills from the bins that it fills I'd feel so much better If just one letter not from a debtor — from maybe a friend or a jet-setter — Would fill my emptiness and bring you happiness; It may make you check me more and not regret it I don't mean to offend — it's true — I've got this job to do And one day I'll not be needed and won't be here for you Just ... Once a day check the clocks Mailman been? Turn the locks, I could hold pleasant shocks.

Love — your mailbox"

...

"Face scarred Life's hard Emotions charred; Not much to warm the heart from my greeting card Each time you use me it's to abuse me — slices, cuts; they all confuse me Uncooked meat Something sweet I see it it all as you prepare to eat I sit in silent resignation When food's in need of separation You slice and dice in preparation — I just pray for variation My life Your knife Your knife, my life — constant strife! You know I've uses less unnerving I'm flat and large enough for serving On my face could make a fine display If just once I was used this way But you never think to risk it I'm never, ever used for biscuits Your relentless chopping Unstopping — then it's to the sink for mopping And into the drawer until you pull me out for more; Just like before I'm scored — so scored — I don't want raise discord But I have ambition It's my mission to be like the platters and the trays To be used in more ways one of these days

Can you just once put down that sword? And maybe — if you can afford — Serve food from me?

Love — your chopping board"

...

"My job is one not many envy But I just sigh and be the best I can be You see? It's your machinery You've got to pee And social rules say: 'You pee where none can see.' — none can see but me I know but don't tell I have no nose so can't smell, But it's living hell some spells — and I pray for the days you eat well! Oh! The things I've seen! I'm a simple machine I like to be clean But it's obscene And a little mean what do what you do to this old latrine! If it's yellow let it mellow? Who came up that?! ... "Not this fellow!" I bellow If I had a hand with which I could rush I'd reach up and give myself a flush My mouth it sours I've no mobile powers And have to gargle that for hours! I love it when your friends are 'round Or your parents in from out of town Then you scrub me And rub me; You give some love to me Shine me up nice and bright, Get my porcelain gleaming white Sure The toilet brush, he lives in fear But he only gets used twice a year!

I guess what I'm saying is: Keep using me to do your biz But this thing we have? We're close, don't spoil it Take the time to clean — your toilet"

I am so very little,these words and sentences are dwarfishin the shadow of phrases turning like riversswift and deep into the mind,a current into the heart.yet I am not but little,so little I must be:these are my little things.